


Memories

by NCMB



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25344493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NCMB/pseuds/NCMB
Summary: Norma was always by Red's side, and she saw everything before anyone else.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 3





	Memories

Sometimes, people underestimate how smart I am. It’s not always because I don’t speak, which is the obvious reason people misunderstand me. No, oftentimes, people think I’m unintelligent because I follow the lead of other people.

When I first met Red Reznikov, I had been at Litchfield for a few years. I had gone from a man telling me what to do, where to be, and how to act… to suddenly finding myself with much more freedom in prison. I can’t say I enjoyed it very much. It’s not that I can’t look out for myself. It’s that I find enjoyment from being useful to others. I felt useless without someone to look out for.

Some people are designed to give orders; I am not one of them.

Red arrived as a younger middle-aged woman, fierce and full of life. I adored her immediately. After the shock of arriving in prison wore off, her true colors came through. Bold and untamed, she had no reservations taking over the kitchen. She was something else. Not only did she actually improve the food, but everything ran more efficiently once she ran things.

I stayed by Red’s side for years, but not because I had nobody else. Not because I had to. I stayed because I could see something in Red that needed me. There was some element that I recognized then without realizing.

As the years went on, our bond deepened and my concern grew. I did not know the cause of my concern, but I knew she needed me.

During those years, Red changed. She became bolder and more sure of herself. That was the face she showed the prison. They didn’t see what I saw. They didn’t see the Red who had been running a kitchen for 10 years but couldn’t remember where the oatmeal was. They didn’t see the Red that forgot if she had brushed her teeth or not. They didn’t see the Red that grew frustrated over the smallest things, losing her temper when she couldn’t recall how to do a routine task.

I saw that Red. I saw Red think the produce order was due to arrive when it had come the day before. I saw Red grow obsessed with a chicken, jeopardizing her position for a mythical bird. I also saw Red become completely preoccupied with Vee, unable to see the danger she put herself and her family in by pursuing revenge. 

Gina and I could see that Vee would be no threat if Red left her alone. Red herself provoked the rage from the heroin dealer and got herself slocked in the process. 

Red had grown, well, paranoid in the years leading up to that. Much of her bluster was to cover her own insecurities. She could see for herself that she had changed.

I did everything I could to help. I organized her toiletries and gave her gentle reminders when she forgot something. I got her a vocabulary book to try to keep her mind active and help her brain stay sharp. As the time went on, I did more things for her. I shaved her legs as she grew frustrated with the task. I made her bunk as she started forgetting how to place the sheets. She appreciated my help, though she didn’t know the real reason. 

Other women said rude things about me, but I ignored them. Red was my friend, and I would do anything to keep her safe, even from herself.

One of my many regrets in life is that I lost my temper with Red after she lost her kitchen. She needed a friend then more than ever, but I was angry she had hurt Gina. I knew she had poor judgment, and I knew she was angry about her kitchen. I should have anticipated something going wrong. 

I can’t help but feel that Red got worse even faster because her family abandoned her. That may be my own guilt, but it still hurts. Gina won’t talk to me about it, but I know she has a lot of emotions over the whole situation.

Since I’ve come to Ohio, Nicky has written me several letters. I know now my suspicions were correct.

Dementia. 

It was still a shock to read. Nicky had tried so hard to keep Red going, but eventually had to let her go to the dorm where they housed the mentally ill. It makes my skin crawl to think of my friend in such a place, surrounded by the old and infirm. 

When I think of Red, I prefer to think of her in her prime, able to organize a huge holiday meal with her hands tied. Red in her early days at Litchfield, when she had every inmate’s name, charge, and sentence memorized. She could keep dozens of women in line by sheer will alone.

With Red’s added time, it’s unlikely she will ever leave prison alive. I cried when I learned of those extra years; my friend didn’t deserve that. Especially not in the state she’s in now.

I pray for my friend every day. I hope somebody answers.


End file.
